Author's Notes: Hope everyone had a lovely holiday. My parents put the C, S and I in Christmas by giving me the DVD set of the first season (now I only need season four and I'll have the whole show so far...and then it's on to world domination!) and the soundtrack. My inner GSR geek is happy; the CD has "Unbound" on it. While I did try to actually take the break I gave myself, I found that I couldn't stay away from this story for too long. When you're on a roll, you go with it. Also, there's going to be some site maintenance later in the week, and I wanted to beat that. So enjoy and have a happy New Year!
Letting Go
by Kristen Elizabeth
Of all the things you've got
The thing you want the most is there
And she's the one thing that you just can't have
- XTC, "I Can't Own Her"
Dear Ms. Sidle,
While we understand that you are currently on personal leave, certain developing circumstances compel us to ask if you might return to London at the earliest possible instance.
As you are undoubtedly aware, political and social tensions in the Central African Republic have lately resulted in pockets of violence throughout the country. The United Nations has requested the aid of IFFS, and we are responding by dispatching several teams, yours included, to help cope with the mounting death toll.
We are charged to remind you that this assignment is a potentially dangerous one, and that you can decline at any time. However, if you choose to go with your team, they are scheduled to depart in mid-January, as soon as they are vaccinated for yellow fever. If you do plan to join them, please have yourself immunized for this, as well.
You have done outstanding work for IFFS in your short time with us. We hope to see you in Africa. Happy Holidays.
Sincerely,
Dr. Laura Robertson, Director of Field Operations
"Sara! Over here!" Greg dropped his arm when Sara waved back and started weaving her way through the crowded restaurant toward the corner booth. "I don't know," he said to the two men sitting across from him. "From a distance, she doesn't look any different. Maybe it didn't happen."
"No way. Warrick's out fifty bucks." Nick rubbed his hands together eagerly. "You can pay up anytime, man."
Warrick shook his head. "Not gonna happen, Nicky."
Greg kept his eye on Sara and his voice low. "I thought that Warrick won if they didn't hook up during the trial."
"And we're all pretty much agreed that they didn't," Warrick added. "So Nick owes me."
"The trial is still going on," Nick argued. "They haven't even gotten to sentencing yet. And then there's appeals…" He flashed them a grin. "Therefore, if it happened, I won."
Greg drew a line across his throat as Sara reached their table, her cheeks flushed from being outside. Or was it something more than that?
"Sorry I'm late. Have you ordered already?"
"Just coffee." She slid into the empty space next to Greg. "We got you some," he told her, pushing her full mug closer to her elbow.
"Great. It's getting colder out there." Sara paused as she unwrapped her scarf, suddenly noticing the oddly amused looks they were giving her. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Nick assured her. "We've just missed having breakfast with you, that's all."
"Uh-huh." She reached for her coffee. "Sure."
Kicked back in his too-cool-for-words way, Warrick tossed her the sugar pack he knew she'd be asking for. "You do anything fun for Christmas, Sara?"
"I spent the night with Grissom." Greg choked on a scalding mouthful of coffee. "Is anyone else getting pancakes?"
Warrick laughed out loud. "You go, girl. Good for you."
Nick shook his head, temporarily dumbfounded by her frankness. "Um…congratulations. Yeah…yeah, this is a good thing. Isn't it?"
"You had sex with Grissom?" Greg squeaked.
She shot him a sideways glare. "I said I spent the night with him. I don't recall going into any further detail than that."
"Huh. I always figured Grissom would tear the sheets up."
Sara's eyes grew wide. "Greg, how much time have you spent thinking about what Grissom would be like in bed?"
"Not a whole lot. But you gotta figure all that random knowledge he's got…statistically, a good five percent of it has to be sexual smarts. Right?"
She shook her head. "And why do you assume that my reluctance to share every intimate tidbit says anything about Grissom's prowess?"
"This train of thought about Gris can derail anytime," Warrick said.
"It's just that for someone who finally hooked up with the guy she's loved for years, you're kind of…subdued," Nick tried to explain.
"Yeah," Greg agreed. "If I actually got it on with Pink, none of you would ever hear the end of it."
Sara set down her menu. "I got mail this morning from IFFS."
"Belated Christmas card?"
Greg was ignored again. "They're sending my team to Africa. And they want me to go, too."
Warrick nodded after a few seconds had passed. "Ah. I see the problem."
"It's only a problem if you're thinking about going." Nick frowned when she looked away. "Are you? For real?"
"But…what about Grissom?"
Giving Greg a look that demanded his silence, Warrick told Sara, "It's not like last time, is it? It's a different choice you have to make now."
"Very different." She added another sugar to her coffee just to give her hands something to do. "I don't know what to do."
"Be honest with him," Nick advised. "Make the decision together. If you're gonna be in a relationship, you have to start working this sort of stuff out as a team, not two separate, stubborn people."
Sara sighed. "I'm afraid to even bring it up. I'm not sure where we stand now. At least before, I knew the rules. But now…the whole game has changed. And I have to learn it all over again."
"Do you want to go?"
She couldn't ignore Greg this time, not when his question was so loaded. She looked at him; he was chewing on his lower lip like a little brother whose big sister was leaving for another semester at college. "I don't know." She let out a breath. "Maybe. Being back here has made me realize…I can't live in the desert anymore. I hate it. The sand, the sun…I get nauseous just seeing the mountains in the distance. I used to love it here. And it's not fair that Callie Lamb took that away from me, but she did." Sara lowered her eyes. "So I don't know where home is anymore."
A few seconds passed in awkward silence. Finally, Sara cleared her throat. "Where's the bathroom?" Without waiting for a reply, she climbed out of the booth and went off searching.
Nick watched her retreating back. "She didn't say 'no'."
"She didn't say 'yes,' either," Greg was quick to remind him.
Warrick drained the last of his coffee. "Either way, hold on to your butts. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."
"Just run it ahead of Grissom's stuff," Sofia instructed one of the techs over her shoulder as she left the DNA lab. "Trust me; these days, he won't even…" She stopped short when, through the glass walls, she saw Sara Sidle coming down the hall, a large guest badge clipped to her jacket. "…notice."
Sofia took the long way around the fingerprint lab in order to come up behind Sara when the she stopped in front of the break room. "Sara, hello."
She was startled, but determined not to show it. "Hello, Sofia. It's...been awhile."
"It has." Sofia continued after a minute ticked by without either of them saying anything else. "The place hasn't changed much, has it?"
"No." Sara cleared her throat. "Maybe you can help me. I'm looking for…"
"Gil's in the field," Sofia interrupted her. "I'm not surewhen he'll be back."
"Actually, I was going to say Doc Robbins." Her smile was forced. "He's not in his office."
She checked her watch. "I don't know. But he had better just be in the bathroom; he's supposed to be wrapping up an autopsy for my case." Her expression turned curious. "What do you need him for?"
"It's personal. No offense."
"None taken."
There was absolutely nothing left to talk about, so Sara inclined her head and took a step back. "Well…take care."
"Hey, Sara." She turned back around out of politeness. "I admire the work you've been doing with IFFS. The article in the newsletter was compelling."
"I haven't read it. But thanks." Sara started off again.
"Are you back in town for good?" Sofia called out to her just as she rounded a corner. Her question was left unanswered. "Well," she continued to herself. "That's a no."
On her second trip into the morgue, Sara found the man she was looking for, elbow deep in his latest case. She caught his eye through the window in the door; he nodded to indicate he'd be right out.
Ten minutes later, Doc Robbins left the autopsy room without a visible trace of blood on him. "Sara," he greeted her warmly. "I was hoping you'd find your way here eventually."
"Hey, Doc." With this man, she didn't need to fake a smile. "How are the holidays treating you?"
"My wife gave me plane tickets to Kyoto for the Cherry Blossom Festival," he replied. "I made off pretty well." The older man paused. "I heard about the verdict. Regardless of the details, it's always nice to see a person responsible for sending someone to my table punished for it."
"It is." Sara cleared her throat. "I have a medical question."
He adjusted his glasses. "Go ahead."
"How would I go about getting vaccinated for yellow fever?"
"Now that's one I don't often hear. Are you planning a trip to sub-Saharan Africa?" She frowned and he clarified, "It's one of the few places on earth where it's absolutely necessary to be vaccinated for this particular disease."
Sara hesitated. "It's a long story, Doc."
"Well, I can recommend a good immunologist, a friend of mine, who probably has at least a limited supply of the vaccine available."
"Do you think it'd be possible to have it taken care of today?"
"I don't see why not." Doc Robbins studied her for a moment. "Are you in a rush?"
Sara folded her arms over her chest. "I'd like to get it out of the way. So that I at least have options." Her cheeks flushed. "I have a date tonight."
"Anyone special?"
"Yeah. Very special."
He nodded. "I'll get that number for you and call ahead to tell my friend you're coming."
"I appreciate it."
Doc Robbins leaned on his walking apparatus as he started down the hall. "And Sara. I take it I won't be mentioning this conversation to your date the next time I see him?"
Her strange, sad expression was all the answer he needed.
"I can't believe you don't have champagne glasses." Catherine carefully extracted two crystal glasses from the box she'd brought with her to the house, set them down on the counter, and glared at Grissom. "This is what happens when you're fifty and still a bachelor."
"I have wine glasses," he argued. "You told me I couldn't use them."
"Wine glasses are for wine, Gil. Champagne glasses are slimmer, more delicate…you know, sexier."
He inspected one of them for dust. "It's all glass to me."
"Yeah, well, just be careful. They were a wedding present, and these are the last to survive Lindsey's childhood." She shook her hair out of her eyes. "Why didn't you just go buy a set of your own?"
"No time. She'll be here in a half an hour."
"Sara, right?"
Grissom gave her a look. "Of course."
Catherine held up her hands, defensively. "I just have to make sure. You don't have a great track record with women. This woman specifically."
"I'm working on it."
"So I see. Champagne, candles…" She pointed to his bedroom. "Three hundred count Egyptian cotton sheets."
"How in the world do you know that?"
"I can just tell." Catherine smiled at him. "You're wooing her."
Grissom busied himself with putting the Möet Chandon to chill. "It's New Year's Eve. I just want her to have a good time."
"Trust me. A woman's good time rarely depends on the thread count of the sheets. It's more about what happens between the…"
He cut her off quickly. "Thanks for the glasses. You can go now."
Catherine ignored him as she looked around the room. "Champagne, candles, sheets…" she repeated thoughtfully. Something struck her and she spun around. "You're going to propose!" Grissom nearly dropped the bottle. "You are! Oh my god..."
He cleared his throat. "I don't have a ring yet. I thought maybe she'd like to have some say in it. Do you think she'll mind?"
"I think…" Catherine shook her head. "No. I don't think she'll mind." After a moment's hesitation, she covered the distance between them and kissed his cheek.
"What was that for?"
Smiling, she wiped away the lipstick print she'd left behind. "Nothing. I'm gonna go now." Catherine grabbed her purse and walked to the door. "Gil…I'm really happy for you."
When she was gone, Grissom nodded to himself. "So am I."
It was ten minutes until the new year. And Sara couldn't get enough of the man in bed with her.
The sex wasn't even the highlight of the evening, although it was nothing to dismiss. He played her body like an instrument and left her singing a new tune. Greg had seriously underestimated the percentage of his knowledge. But it was what came afterwards that had her so amazed. Just simply lounging in the sheets, sated beyond all measure of the word...doing all those little things lovers do after the pleasure fades, but before the itch renews.
She'd never thought he'd be one for post-coital bliss. But she was certainly glad to learn over the past week that she'd been wrong.
"Tell me about the tattoo."
The TV in Grissom's bedroom was tuned to Dick Clark's New Year's Eve countdown, time delayed for the Pacific zone, but neither of them were watching. He was propped up against the foot of his bed; Sara leaned against the headboard. As such, Grissom was able to take her ankle between his hands and run his lips over her inked flesh.
She laughed, the sheet covering her naked body slipping another tantalizing inch lower. "What do you want to know?"
"When, where, why…the usual." His kisses moved up her leg.
"I'll tell you. When you tell me what the male fascination with tattoos on a woman is all about."
Grissom paused at the inside of her knee. "I've seen hundreds of tattoos. There was a DB about a year before you came to Vegas…she had the words 'if you can read this, you had better be a friend' tattooed in small letters along her bikini line. Tattoos hold no particular fascination for me. It's the fact that you have one. And I never would have guessed."
"Because I'm such a nerd?"
"If you're a nerd, I don't even want to know what my label would be."
Chuckling, she gave in. "Okay. But I have to warn you, it's not a particularly exciting tale. It involves large amounts of tequila and a very intense game of truth or dare my sophomore year of college."
He crawled up the length of her body until they were face to face. "You would pick dare, wouldn't you?"
"Every time." Sara gave him a slow, lingering kiss. "Truth or dare."
"Truth."
"Do you still love me?"
Grissom stroked her hair. "More than I did yesterday. Not as much as I will tomorrow."
She held his face between her hands. "Do you think you'll ever stop?"
"That's two truths. It's my turn." He brushed a kiss across her lips. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth." He raised an eyebrow and she smiled. "I like to keep things interesting."
"You always do." His fingers trailed down her throat, over her collarbone and along the length of her left arm. He stopped at a dark spot on her pale skin. "How did you get this bruise?" Sara's heart skipped a beat. Grissom went on, "It looks like an injection site." There was worry in his words. "Did you go to the doctor? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she assured him when she found her voice again. Sara pushed herself further up the bed until she was sitting upright, clutching the sheet to her breasts. "I have to tell you something."
He reached for his glasses on the nightstand. Slipping them on, he nodded at her to go ahead.
"Two days ago, I was vaccinated for yellow fever." The words hung in the air between them. "Because IFFS wants to send me to Africa."
The television provided the only sound in the room for a long time. It was maddening. Eventually, someone had to speak before they both went crazy.
"So, you're going then." She winced at his flat tone.
"I don't know," she said. A moment passed before he got out of bed. "Gil, don't do this."
He lifted his pants off of the dresser where they'd somehow landed and pulled them on. "Do what?"
Sara sat up on her knees. "You know exactly what." She watched him zip up. "Stop! Don't you dare concede to this, Gil Grissom! Get back in this bed so we can talk."
"Is there really anything to discuss? People generally avoid shots unless they're absolutely necessary. So being immunized can only mean that you've made up your mind and that you're leaving. Again."
She climbed out of his bed, wrapping the sheet around her body. "You can't know that. Because I don't even know that. It's something that we need to talk about."
"I won't stand in your way, Sara." The slump in his shoulders gave away the anguish he was so successfully keeping out of his voice. "We haven't made any promises to each other, so…"
"I can still feel you inside me," she whispered. "That should be a promise of at least getting the benefit of your doubt." She took small, hesitant steps up to him. "Can you give me that?"
He couldn't look at her. But he did nod. "Just…be honest. With me and with yourself."
"Okay." Sara paused. "A very big part of me wants to stay. My friends are here. You're here. Being with you is what I wanted for so long…it would be so easy to live in that fantasy. To work with you every day and sleep beside you every night."
"Then do it." Grissom's expression was one she'd never seen on him, even in the throes of passion. His eyes were wild, intense. He grabbed her hands and the sheet pooled around her feet. "Stay here, Sara. Be with me."
Sara looked back and forth between his eyes. "But there's also a very real part of me that wants to go. Maybe even has to go."
"Why? Why, Sara? Bosnia nearly broke you. The nightmares…you can't put yourself through that over and over and expect to come out unscathed. It'll change you, honey."
"You don't understand. That's why I have to do it." She lifted one bare shoulder. "I can't let it beat me."
He swore out loud. "I won't let you go. Not again."
Sara blinked. "You won't let me?"
"I became a man I hated while you were gone. I didn't know…I was I supposed to know that so much of who I am depends on you?" He gulped for air. "Marry me."
"What?" Her knees couldn't support her anymore, and she slipped to the floor. "Did you just…"
"I did." Grissom crouched down next to her. "Be my wife, Sara."
Her stare was glassy and unfocused as she absorbed this. "You don't want to marry me. You just want to keep me behind glass." He stood up slowly and she knew she'd gone too far. "I didn't mean that. Not entirely." Struggling to stand, she rewrapped the sheet around her nakedness. "Gil…"
It was two minutes until the new year. But all the old issues remained.
"I love you, Sara." Grissom shook his head. "I understand why you might not blindly take my word for it, but I want to be with you."
"Then…" She licked her lips. "Come with me."
It was his turn to stare at her. "Come with you…"
The more she thought about the idea, the more brilliant it became. "If you want to be with me…be with me. IFFS would fall all over themselves to hire you, especially with your entomology background."
"Sara…"
"I mean…think about it, Gil. You've as much as admitted that we can't have a relationship in Las Vegas. Even if I moved to another shift, you're still a supervisor and I'm not. But none of that would matter in Europe or…or Africa." Her face lit up, brighter than the ball that was about to drop on the television. "We could be together. And we wouldn't have to hide it or lie about it or change our lives to accommodate it."
"You don't consider dropping everything and moving thousands of miles away a change in lifestyle?" Grissom paced to the end of the room. "I am an old man, Sara. Old and set in my ways. My life is what it is and it's been that way for a long time. Fifty years old is no time to be starting all over again in a new job, a new country…"
"A new relationship?"
"I wasn't talking about…" He sighed. "I want to marry you, Sara. Look at me. I'm asking you to stay. I'm a different man, standing right here, asking you to be with me."
"On your terms. It's still just about you."
Grissom ran a hand down his beard. "I'm trying. Isn't that enough?"
She couldn't breathe for a long moment.
Ten…nine…eight…
"Tell me…" Hot tears stung her eyes. "…you just need some time to think about it."
Seven…six…five…
His Adam's apple bobbed. "I don't need time. Don't do this, Sara. Don't let go of us."
Four…three…two…
"I don't have to. You already have."
One.
Her lower lip trembled. "Happy New Year."
To Be Continued